Author: Sarah Wisniewski

Sarah Wisniewski joined WPCA in 2015. She holds a B.A. from Geneva College and a master's degree in journalism from West Virginia University. Sarah and her husband, Zack, are blessed with a handful of small kids and are tolerated by their two medium-sized cats.

The House No One Could Love

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

Photo of old farm house

It’s a beautiful house—good bones, as they say. I mean the roof has gone bad, and the walls are bad, and some of the floors are bad, and the foundation is bad. But other than that, it’s a dream! 

The first time we walked through the house, I could practically see our realtor shudder. It was uninhabitable. No bank would touch it with a mortgage—what an awful investment! It looks like it might fall over at any moment! It’s not worth saving. The merciful thing to do would be to bulldoze it and put it out of the neighborhood’s misery. 

Why did we buy a crumbling house that any reasonable person would turn up their nose at? I could cite the history of the house, the size of the rooms, the acreage. At the heart though, we bought it because we want to save it, and we want to save it because we love it. 

Loved “As Is”

There’s something redemptive in saving this old, decrepit house. It was made to be beautiful, and we want to make it beautiful again. In that way, this project reflects the heart of our Father, who “so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, … in order that the world might be saved through him” (from John 3:16–17). 

Before we were redeemed by Christ, we had nothing to commend us to God—not even “good bones.” As Paul wrote to Titus, “For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another” (Titus 3:3). We were, by all human measures, not worth saving. 

But God did save us! At great personal cost, with sweat and tears and precious blood, Jesus redeemed even me. He didn’t examine me closely and determine that there’s something here he could work with, or do a cost-benefit analysis to see if the work put into me would be worth the outcome. No, God saved me out of his own love and mercy.

Paul continued, “But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:4-5). 

In love Jesus bought us—“as is,” you might say. He wanted you and me, both individually and collectively, to be his treasured possession. 

Completed on Schedule

This beautiful, outrageous act of redemption is not the full height of Jesus’s plan for us! He is also, at this moment, currently renewing us. 

Jesus places his Holy Spirit in each person who believes. Lovingly, painstakingly, the Spirit is crafting each one of us into pure, spotless saints. We are described as “living stones [that] are being built up as a spiritual house” (1 Peter 1:23), which resonates particularly right now as Zack is repairing the old foundation stone by stone. 

The Spirit’s work is not always—in fact, not often—glamorous. I took a mallet to a wall at the house recently. Plaster chunks and wood lath splinters flew, and in an hour or two the wall was reduced to studs and rubble. Our growth as believers can feel that way, shattered and broken. Aren’t we supposed to be growing from one degree of glory to another? Why does it hurt? Why is there so much dust?

Zack and I aren’t naive. We know that this sad, broken house will take years and dollars to bring back to life. It might take more of both than we have. The whole thing could fall down or burn to the ground before we ever get to see it to completion. (Probably not though, right?)

The God who made the world is a more sure builder. “I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ,” wrote Paul (Philippians 1:6). 

Not one of God’s new creations will arrive in heaven behind schedule. The Holy Spirit works patiently, individually, thoughtfully, sometimes one room at a time, sometimes with several projects going at once, sometimes narrowly focused on one particularly malignant problem. But rest assured, at the day of Jesus Christ, you’ll have a fresh coat of paint, a new front porch, and the only strong foundation.

Photo by the author

Movie Recommendation: The Star (2017)

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

Sometimes your kids out-Christian you. It’s a complicated emotional moment, because on the one hand, you’re a great parent since your kid did the good Jesus-y thing! On the other hand, you didn’t. 

So when my daughter eliminated all of my Santa-themed Christmas movie options and insisted on something about “the real reason for Christmas,” I had to scramble a bit.

I landed on The Star, a 2017 film about the Christmas story from the animals’ point of view. It looked like nativity-meets-Madagascar. It has a cast full of big to mid-sized names, such as Keegan Michael-Key, Zachary Levi, Tyler Perry, Tracy Morgan, both Kelly Clarkson AND Mariah Carey, and even Oprah. Weirdly, Joel Osteen makes an appearance voicing one of the wise men. 

The story follows a donkey named Bo who dreams of doing something truly great. He ends up in the company of Mary and Joseph and has to choose between staying with this lowly couple or pursuing his dream of greatness. There’s a veritable heavenly host of funny animal companions, from a tiny jerboa to three camels from the East who can’t agree if they’re on their way to a baby shower or a birthday party. 

It was delightful! The movie is playful with the story, but it’s overall faithful to both the plot points and the themes. Mary and Joseph clearly state that the baby will be the Messiah foretold by the prophets. The baby is also identified as the Son of God, though a comic relief character dismisses the statement. True biblical scholars will quibble with the timeline of the wise men and the age of Joseph. I liked the other-wordly representation of angels and that the characters’ skin tone is, well, Middle Eastern. 

I was impressed by how the movie handled Joseph learning of Mary’s pregnancy. Parents and Sunday school teachers know that this can sometimes raise questions we’re not prepared to answer. The Star sidesteps questions of adultery and instead focuses on the significance of the coming baby. Joseph’s distress in the film is more about his overwhelm at the responsibility of raising the literal Messiah and King.

You won’t hear a clear gospel declaration in this movie, nor will you hear the words “sin” or “savior.” But, there is what I would call a gospel moment near the end of the film. It’s a slight spoiler so I’ll put in a paragraph break if you want to skip. 

In this retelling, Herod sends a hunter with two evil dogs to find Mary and destroy the soon-to-be newborn king before he’s even born. In a final showdown, the good animals knock the hunter and his dogs over a cliff. Bo saves the dogs and pulls them to safety, releasing them from their chained collars. One of the dogs, Rufus, says, “We’re bad dogs.” Bo tells them, “You don’t have to be. You’re free now.” As the dogs approach the newborn Jesus, Rufus asks, “Are we good dogs now?” to which the other dog responds, “We have to try.” 

Watching this scene in view of the whole of Scripture, we can see the full journey from repentance to justification to sanctification. They acknowledge their wrongful actions–and even that their sin sits at the root of their identity. As they approach the infant Savior, they are forgiven and reconciled to the other animals and, in response to the grace they’ve received, they want to be better.

It’s the story of Saul on the road to Damascus in miniature: They were trying to kill the baby Jesus, but now that they’ve seen him, they want to serve him. It’s the biblical image of the chains of sin being broken and the forgiven sinner being freed to a new life in Jesus. 

You probably won’t watch The Star unless you’re watching it with children, so a quick content note: This is a remarkably clean movie. No bad language, no adult innuendos. There are some mild poop and butt jokes. The mean dogs were a little intense for my two-year-old, but he stuck it out.

We watch the original animated Grinch at least once each Christmas, and my husband just introduced our kids to the 1964 Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I think our oldest girl will love White Christmas this year (the costumes! the dancing!). But if you’re looking for a fun family flick about the real reason for Christmas, you could do a lot worse than The Star.

When Shall We Fold Socks?

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

I’m putting off laundry to write this. 

There’s always laundry. And dishes. And crumbs on the floor. I feel the constant pressure to do the next chore to keep the house in order. Then my child asks me to read a book. But, the laundry! 

This is when senior parents say, “Enjoy your children while you can! The laundry can wait.” 

It’s so well-meant. It usually comes from people who dearly love their own now-grown children and miss the sweetness of soft toddler snuggles, the warm feeling of a child pressed against you asking for one more chapter. They want to free young parents from the tyranny of maintaining Insta-perfect homes to enjoy their children. Read the book; the laundry can wait. 

Unfortunately, my laundry has already waited, and so have the dishes. If a young parent has expressed distress about the pressures of housekeeping and childcare, they have already let the dishes go. Eventually you’re out of sippy cups and clean underwear. 

Stress and overwhelm aren’t unique to parenthood, and neither is dismissive advice. We tell overworked friends, “Just leave work at work.” We tell lonely teens, “It’s just high school; you won’t care in a few years.” Unfortunately, being told “don’t worry” doesn’t solve our problems. 

Do Not Worry about Your Laundry

“Enjoy your children,” spoken to a parent who feels overburdened, or “Just leave it at work,” spoken to someone against a deadline, can feel like an added pressure. Not only must you meet your ordinary responsibilities, but you must also have a sense of peace or appreciation about it all!

And yet, Jesus taught his followers, “Do not worry”:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6:25)

Although it’s phrased as a command, the tone of this section of the Sermon on the Mount is not a burden laid on a shoulder already heavy with anxiety. Instead, it’s a gracious release. We don’t need to worry about even our basic needs, because “your heavenly Father knows that you need them all” (Matthew 6:32). We are God’s children, adopted in love, redeemed at the dear cost of his Son’s blood. If God provides for the lilies and the birds, we can be assured that he will also care for us, his beloved children.

God provides for his children in many ways. A primary way is through the church body, the hands and feet of Jesus in the world. When we see another member of the body struggling, it’s a call to action. 

When explaining the vital connection between faith and works, James highlights the importance of putting action behind our words. “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” (James 2:15-16). Jesus Christ is the ultimate display of this: He not only met many physical needs during his earthly ministry, but he also put aside his glory and laid down his life to meet our deepest spiritual need, atoning for our sins on the cross. Following his example and empowered by his Spirit, we are also to meet one another’s needs as we are able.

Telling young parents to enjoy their children, without also offering to help with the dishes, or telling a student to ignore hurtful remarks from classmates, without also helping them find a safe community, places the burden back on the suffering person. Instead, we are called to “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). 

Please don’t hear me wrong. Telling people to enjoy their children and suggesting healthy work/life boundaries are not bad things to say. Tone and timing go a long way in making advice land well where it’s needed. All I’m saying is, if you’re about to tell a young parent to let the dishes go, maybe be prepared to pick up a dishrag. 

But Seriously, Do Not Worry about Your Laundry

But Jesus really did say, “Do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’” or “When shall we fold socks?” (Matthew 6:31). Okay I added that last one. 

So if you’re the parent putting off laundry, or the employee under deadline, or the kid dreading school tomorrow, how do you just … not worry about it? 

First, take comfort. Your heavenly father knows your needs, and he cares about you (Matthew 6:32). 

Second, check your motives. Jesus tells his followers to, instead of worrying, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). Do you want to keep a clean house because you want to feel good about your own ability to do it all? (That’s my hand raised, it’s me.) Or do you want to keep a clean house because God has placed this home and this family in your care, and you want to serve them well? 

When our eyes are set on the kingdom of God, our measure of success changes. The cleanliness of the house takes second place to whether my kids see the gospel in me as I love and serve them—which includes providing a safe and comfortable home. Meeting the deadline takes a backseat to doing your best work, not for man but for God (Colossians 3:23). Getting treated badly at school will always feel awful, but it becomes an opportunity to model grace in a setting where people expect cruelty. 

Finally, use your resources. God has promised to provide for you! Now, God doesn’t always play by our rules. He may not provide a maid; or an extension; or a comedic series of harmless accidents that leave your bully hanging from the school flagpole by a wedgie, leading to a heartfelt reckoning where enemies become friends. 

God has provided a community in his church. All those people who told you to let the dishes go might just be willing to scrub a pot because they know from experience how precious it is to spend time with your kids! They’re only little for a little while, so I’m told.

Asking for help is hard, both logistically and in principle. We live far apart from one another, often siloed in our single-family homes. Our culture prizes independence and personal responsibility; we don’t dig around in other people’s private lives and problems, and we expect the same from others. That’s not God’s model for his body! 

Immediately before he laid down his own life for his bride, Jesus washed his disciples’ dirty feet and instructed them to serve others as he did. Asking for help gives others the opportunity to serve like Jesus.

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A Man Under Authority

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

When the psalmist encouraged us to meditate on God’s word, I don’t think he had children’s songs in mind. But if you want to have biblical stories, words, and truths cycling through your mind every waking moment, you could do worse than to have a child who only ever wants to listen to one biblical children’s music collection. 

If this post were part of a series, it would be Part II of “Truths Sarah Learned from Children’s Songs” (see Part I here). This time the song was “The Centurion’s Secret” by The Donut Man, an overall-clad, mustachioed song leader and children’s show host from my childhood, who I rediscovered on Amazon Music. The song tells the story of the healing of the centurion’s servant from Matthew 8:5–13 (also Luke 7:1–10). Sometime around the billionth listen, as the chorus replayed a fourth time, a piece of the story clicked for me in a way it never had before. 

“I, Too”

I was familiar with the general narrative: A centurion approaches Jesus (or sends someone to him, depending which gospel account you read) with a request to heal his dear servant. Jesus offers to go to the servant, but the centurion states that he is not worthy to have Jesus come under his roof and that Jesus can simply speak a word and heal the servant—which indeed, Jesus does. 

But there’s an odd line in there that I never quite understood. As the centurion assures Jesus he doesn’t need to come, he says: “For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it” (Matthew 8:9).

He’s certainly indicating that he understands that a person with authority can cause things to be done without their hands-on intervention. If he tells one of his soldiers to carry a message, the message will be delivered without the centurion traveling with it personally. Likewise, the centurion knew that a man with authority, like Jesus, could simply give the word for the servant to be healed, and it would happen. 

But he didn’t describe himself—and Jesus—as a man with authority; he said they were men under authority. At first, to me that seemed demeaning to Jesus. Jesus is the all-powerful God of the universe in human form. He was instrumental in creation itself (John 1:3)! How dare the centurion suggest that Jesus was subject to anyone else. 

Finally, while my daughter sang along in the back seat, it clicked: The centurion didn’t only believe that Jesus was able to heal his servant; he understood why Jesus was able to do it.

Just like the centurion knew that he received his authority to command his soldiers from those in authority over him, he understood that Jesus drew his authority from the Father. Jesus consistently described himself this way, such as in John 14:10: “Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works.” 

Declarations like these drew anger and unbelief from the religious leaders of Israel. It took this Roman occupier to see that Jesus did his great works, not to build his own glory, but on the authority of and for the glory of the one who sent him, God the Father. No wonder Jesus remarked, “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith” (Matthew 8:10).

“He Marveled at Him”

Throughout the gospels Jesus taught that his hearers must believe that he is from the Father in order to be saved and have eternal life. This centurion believed what the religious leaders missed, that Jesus was exactly who he said he was.

The centurion’s statement reflected a second aspect of true faith that, again, the religious leaders missed. This comes through most clearly in Luke’s retelling, where the centurion doesn’t even presume to approach Jesus himself. He sends the Jewish elders to Jesus first, and they plead the man’s works: “He is worthy to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation, and he is the one who built us our synagogue” (Luke 7:4–5). The elders assume that Jesus will be impressed by loyalty to Israel and acts of piety. 

Upon Jesus drawing closer to the house, though, the centurion sends out his own friends with a personal message: “I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Therefore I did not presume to come to you” (Luke 7:6–7), followed by his statement about Jesus’s authority. The Jewish elders argued for the centurion’s worthiness; the centurion knew his unworthiness and made his case solely on Jesus’s mercy and power. At this, Jesus marveled (Luke 7:9).

Our flesh, like the Jewish elders, wants to plead our case based on our merits, our church attendance, our volunteer hours, our consistent devotional times. We are perhaps especially vulnerable as Christians in America; our culture values self-sufficiency and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. 

The centurion understood that he had no bootstraps to pull when it came to Jesus. The “John Wayne” approach that worked for leading troops wouldn’t sway a divine man who taught about loving one’s enemies and seeking a kingdom not of this world. This man who was so large in his own world knew that, before Jesus, he had no standing. 

Like the centurion, we need to see rightly what Jesus loves, what makes him marvel. He is not impressed by our works, even the best that we can bring. He marvels at true faith, the kind that brings nothing and asks everything, trusting in Jesus’ authority—and his goodness.

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I Am Not Enough

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

When my son was born, due to stay-at-home orders we had none of the external resources we had planned to lean on. Play dates and church programs for our daughter, housekeeping and childcare help for us, even parks and library outings disappeared overnight. 

It was just Zack and me—and we were not enough.

We were not enough to be the sole source for our two-year-old’s social interactions. We were not enough for the bottomless needs of a newborn. I struggled and usually failed to live out the fruits of the Spirit while tired and stressed. Of course, we had never been “enough,” but before we could hide behind all the things we used to supplement our own parenting. 

It’s crushing to know as a parent that you are not enough for your kids. 

A Sufficient Grace

Paul also confronted his own weakness, a mysterious “thorn.” He pleaded with God to remove it, but God did not. Paul wrote:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9–10)

When we are not enough, God’s grace is sufficient. God’s grace is sufficient to preserve my kids through hardship and loneliness. God’s grace is sufficient to forgive my failures, like when I snap at my kids because I’m just done with today. And by God’s grace our weakness makes room for the power of Christ to fill us with the ability to serve and give and love when there’s nothing left in us. 

We are not called to hide our weaknesses or project an image that we’ve got it all together. Paul says he boasts of his weakness, because that makes it clear it is Christ at work, not himself. 

A Sufficient Gospel

God working through weakness sits at the core of the gospel. Paul points out in the following chapter that Christ himself “was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God” (2 Corinthians 13:4). Christ became weak, so weak that he died, and through his “weakness,” God demonstrated his power to save. 

We can lay at Jesus’s scarred feet the places where we feel we are not up to the task. Jesus doesn’t ask us to be enough; he asks us to lean on him. Much like God gave Paul his thorn, he places things in our lives—like pandemics and newborns—that we are unable to handle. These things drive us back to the cross, reminding us that we do not live by our own strength but by Jesus’s power through the Holy Spirit. 

*Record scratch*

There’s a rub here: Some days I still find myself feeling spent by 11 a.m., and Jesus has yet to show up to watch my kids while I take a nap. What does it mean to live in the power of Christ in the day-to-day? 

A lot of prayer, for one. Prayer has (at least) two benefits. One, you truly are soliciting supernatural help from the Lord of the universe. Two, the act of praying leads you to rehearse the truth of the gospel. I find myself repeating back to God his own truths, like God’s patience with us and Jesus’ boundless sacrifice. Bringing these truths to mind can put your own struggles in context and lead you to have more patience with, say, the sixth time you’ve asked the toddler to put on socks. Totally hypothetical example.

God also placed us in a community. It was hard to take care of my family without support—because God designed people to need one another. Christians individually and the church collectively are God’s literal hands and feet in the world. It is unlikely that Jesus will personally show up to do my dishes. But he might remind me that my soapy hands are being used to serve the tiny neighbors in my home, just like Jesus’ pierced ones served me. 

In those early weeks of my son’s life, I felt numb with the truth of my own inadequacy. God had placed more on me than I could handle, and it was crushing me. While I could have happily gone my life long without such a stern reminder, I have also never seen so clearly that every step was not in my own strength. God—in his mercy!—places overwhelming circumstances in our way, not to cause us to rise to the occasion, but to drive us, like the crack of a whip or the sting of spurs, to himself.

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Quarantine, Regret, and the Gospel

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

I’ve come to the difficult conclusion that I’m not happy with my response to the “quarantime” that began in March.

It’s difficult because it’s always difficult to admit that you’re wrong. It’s doubly difficult because it’s done; there’s no fixing it or trying again next time. Lord willing, there will never be another such event in my lifetime. 

So what do I do with these regrets and feelings of failure? What Christians should always do, in any situation—run to Jesus. 

Regretting Sinful Attitudes

I regret spending so much time being angry. I was angry at the virus for existing, angry at the government for restricting me, angry that I had to wear a mask, angry at people for wearing their masks wrong, angry that my son’s newborn months were stolen, angry at other people for not reacting how I thought they should.

This regret is hard because I have to label it what it is: It’s sin. I sinned.

My anger is a sin against God, a challenge to his goodness and wisdom. It has also hurt those around me, both those on the receiving end and those who I’ve inflicted my anger upon by dwelling on it in conversation. 

The solution is repeated throughout the Scriptures: Repent. “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Joel 2:13b; see also 1 John 1:9).

For me, repentance has looked like making apologies and seeking reconciliation. It’s been praying for a more content and gracious heart. And it’s been praying for the Spirit to “see if there be any grievous way in me” (Psalm 139:24). 

Guys, it hurts. I hoped I could say, “I was angry and I’m sorry,” and be done with it, but my anger was just the shoot springing up from a root system of sinful attitudes that are still being exposed. 

This is the gospel: That when I was still angry, Christ died for me. That when I confess, he will forgive—and that he has given me his Spirit to convict me of my sin, drive me again to the cross, and empower me to live rightly. 

Regretting Missed Opportunities

I also regret not mobilizing to help my neighbors. I didn’t inquire whether my elderly neighbors needed groceries, didn’t seek out ways to help the needy, didn’t reach out to people in my own church family to ask how they were doing. I wish I had been Christ’s hands and feet to those outside my home, but I wasn’t.

Maybe you’re like me, and you feel the weight of missed opportunities. You didn’t help that person, didn’t finish that project, didn’t take that online course or master a new hobby during self-isolation. 

Good deeds left undone can be a sin of omission, in which case repentance is appropriate. But every Christian is not called to do every good work. Discerning between a sin of omission and a closed door of opportunity is a matter of wisdom and your conscience. 

In my case, I am confident in my conviction that I did not sin. I had a baby the day Governor Wolf declared a state of emergency. I was physically recovering, barely sleeping, and parenting my toddler. While serving the neighbors outside my home would have been a good thing to do, there was plenty of service and self-sacrifice to be done for the tiny neighbors in my own home. Nevertheless, I regret leaving so much undone.

The good news of the gospel is that, in Christ, you are already as loved and valued by God as you possibly could be. You don’t need to seize every opportunity, do the most good deeds, or be your best self to impress him or earn status in his eyes. Because God is already pleased with you, you can be gentle to your own heart. In a pandemic-themed issue of ByFaith Magazine, Kelly M. Kapic encourages discouraged believers to apply God’s kindness to themselves.

On the other hand, the gospel also frees us to do more and sacrifice more, because we follow a Lord who sacrificed all the way to death, then proved by his resurrection that even dying is only a stepping stone to glory.

In Christ, I am released from guilt over opportunities not taken. And, while I can’t repeat the last eight months, it’s not too late to love my neighbors.

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When the House of God Doesn’t Feel Like Home

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

Twelve weeks ago, when our in-person services were suspended, I daydreamed about walking through the church doors once again, bare-faced, hugging my friends, proudly carrying my newborn son. Instead, we’ll be peeking over masks from six feet away with a baby who by now is hardly new. 

Walking through the doors will bring a different range of emotions for each of us, but suffice it to say, we’ll all be disappointed. We’re grieving for the worship experience we remember. 

The Latter Temple

As the Israelites began returning from their 70-year exile in Babylon, the glorious temple built by Solomon (2 Chronicles 3) was in ruins. When the foundation for a new temple was laid, most of the people rejoiced—but many of the elders who remembered the old temple wept over how much less glorious the new one would be (Ezra 3:12). 

The completion of the temple seventeen years later caused a new round of mourning: “Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes?” (Haggai 2:3). 

God, through his prophet Haggai, exhorted his people to “be strong … for I am with you” (Haggai 2:4). The glory of the former temple had never been in its gold or its cedar, but in God’s presence. “My Spirit remains in your midst,” he told his people, so they need not grieve the loss of a particular building (Haggai 2:5).

More than that, God promised that “The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts. And in this place I will give peace, declares the Lord of hosts” (Haggai 2:9). The latter glory that brings peace is widely understood to be Jesus. The new temple is where Jesus was dedicated, where Simeon declared him to be “a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel” (Luke 2:32).

Like many prophecies, Haggai’s declaration of “latter glory” has a second layer of meaning, pointing to the final glory when God’s people will not gather at a building to worship but will dwell with God and worship before his throne. God, through Haggai, called his people to not look back to Solomon’s temple, but to look ahead to what the glory of Solomon’s temple prefigured. 

The Latter Glory

It is fitting to grieve our losses in our new worship logistics: losses of intimacy, comfort, focus, connection. When the elders wept over the new foundation, God did not chastise them. It was acceptable to have mixed emotions: “the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping” (Ezra 3:13). 

We cannot remain in our grief, however: “Work, for I am with you, declares the Lord of hosts” (Haggai 2:4). Though stifled behind masks and distanced by six feet, we must continue the work of the church—to worship and serve our Savior. We can persevere, despite awkwardness and discomfort, because what makes the church “the church” is still present: “My Spirit remains in your midst,” declares the Lord (Haggai 2:5)! 

God is present with his people! Church may not look how we hoped. But God is still the Lord of hosts, Jesus has still saved us from our sins, and the Spirit still dwells in us, so we have all that we need to worship. 

Finally, we must remember, like the Israelites, that our earthly worship services are a foreshadow of eternity. We have never worshiped perfectly; our minds wander, our hearts are cold, our strength wavers. But a glorious day is coming when God’s church—the whole bride of Christ, not divided into local congregations or spread across time—will sing God’s praises loud and long, side by side before the throne. 

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Prayer in the Newborn Days

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

Guys, I’m tired. We’re way past “watch a movie or read for a bit to recharge.” This is systemic, sleep deprived, newborn tired. 

The adult body needs 6–8 hours of sleep a night, but no one told babies that. For a few weeks we were fortunate to snatch one or two hours at a time overnight, or maybe less on a rough night. It’s getting marginally better, but wow could I do with one good night’s sleep. 

We all have something that we want, that our prayers return to again and again. Maybe for you it’s physical healing, a new job, greater patience, or a better relationship with your spouse, sibling, or child. I can’t speak for you, but when I pray I want to ask boldly—but also recognize “not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). 

I’ve been using Psalm 63:5–8 to guide my prayers.

My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.

I do a lot of “remembering [God] upon my bed … in the watches of night” these days. I would really like to be “satisfied as with fat and rich food” with a good several hours of sleep! 

The satisfaction mentioned in this Psalm, however, comes not from receiving what I want, like good food or sleep, but from remembering and meditating on God: “for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy” (Psalm 63:7). 

It’s not wrong to ask God for sleep. My body works better with adequate sleep. When I’m rested, it’s easier to be patient with my daughter, husband, and very needy son and to maintain a positive outlook on the thankless parts of the newborn days.

Psalm 63 reminds me that my truest desire, what my soul clings to and what upholds me, must be God himself. If he upholds me by providing sleep, then wonderful! But if it’s another sleepless night, then I can cling to God and trust him to uphold me another way. 

Jesus taught his disciples to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11). We’re taught elsewhere that the God who clothes the lilies will surely meet our needs (Luke 12:27–31). God met our deepest need in redeeming us from our sin through Jesus. He also sent the Holy Spirit to live in us, to guide us and sustain us while we are on earth. The Spirit hears my sleepy and sometimes wobbly prayers and intercedes for me before the Father (Romans 8:26–27). 

There’s tremendous comfort in this truth, but also a call to obedience. It’s tempting to use my lack of sleep to excuse sin, such as being short-tempered. My thinking sounds like Adam in the garden (Gen. 3:12): “The night’s sleep you gave me was too short, so I snapped at my husband.” I must rely on the Holy Spirit to change me and equip me to do right and avoid sin, just as much as I lean on him to supply the energy to change the next diaper. And when I fail, I cling to God’s reliable forgiveness and love: “your right hand upholds me” (Psalm 63:8).

I’ve tried to shape my prayers more along these lines: “God, please give me sleep tonight! Or, please give me the divine strength and stamina for the next day.” 

This makes it sound like I’m a content, spiritually satisfied person every day. Nope—I still really want sleep, and if I’m honest, in my flesh I want sleep more than I want to cling to God. So I re-read the note card by my bed where I wrote these verses, and pray for God to reorient my heart toward him.

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Book Review: Labor with Hope: Gospel Meditations on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Motherhood

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

My mom volunteers at her home church to coordinate their rather robust library. She snapped a picture of a new book she was preparing for circulation and texted it to me, asking if I wanted to read it before she put it on the shelf. Being about four weeks from my due date at the time, it seemed like the right read at the right time, so I said yes. 

The book was Labor with Hope: Gospel Meditations on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Motherhood by Gloria Furman (with Jesse Scheumann), and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who relates to any version of childbearing or child rearing. 

First, the chapters are short. At an average of 3–5 pages per chapter (and only 151 in the book), Furman gets not only that less is sometimes more, but also that five minutes of attention may be the most a person, especially her primary audience of moms, has to devote to reading. (They’re also a good length for reading in the waiting room of an OBGYN.)

Second, Furman takes an inclusive view of motherhood. She recognizes the labor of the months of gestation and the months (or years) of the adoption process, conception by traditional means and with medical intervention, raising children from infancy and entering their lives later. She not only leaves room for the “non-traditional” mother but seats her at the head of the table. 

Third, this book delivers on its promise of gospel hope. If you want pages of witty, relatable mommy moments sprinkled with Bible verses, this is not for you. Instead, this book offers unshakeable hope rooted in the whole of Scripture. 

Furman’s premise is that God is not like us, but rather we are like God. Our human experience of birth and mothering reflects aspects of God, rather than God simply using a familiar experience to explain himself. A core example from the book is that women suffer to bring forth children because Jesus suffered on the cross to bring forth his own people.

Scripture uses the image of childbearing frequently and in a variety of contexts. It’s used to describe God’s judgment, his relationship with Israel, and Paul’s labor among the churches, among a long list of others. Furman makes a thorough, though not comprehensive, study of each of them. The book is a rich dive into what Scripture says about childbirth and rearing and how that should affect our view of the vocation of mothers. 

Furman talks about Jesus All. The. Time. She talks about Jesus way more than she talks about the tasks of mothering, like changing diapers and preparing snacks. This is not a particularly practical book, in that she doesn’t offer tips on discipline, meal times, or family devotions. But it achieves its goal as a series of meditations on both hope for moms and the hope motherhood points to. 

I appreciated that Furman assumes that the women reading her book can grasp the deep and rich gospel teaching she presents. Her writing is both approachable and beautiful but in no way simplified for “mommy brains.” She sets out to offer real hope for the physically, emotionally, and spiritually painful work of mothering, and she knows that it only comes through a more than surface-level understanding of the gospel. 

My daughter’s middle name is Hope, and there’s a plaque on her wall that reads, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (Hebrews 6:19). Labor with Hope anchors its hope—for parents and their children—in the only safe harbor, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

Photo courtesy Sarah Wisniewski

Learning, Teaching, Writing, and Women

Posted onAuthorSarah Wisniewski

As a writing major in college, I took a bunch of classes in literature and literary theory. In my junior year, I also picked up an elective called How to Read the Bible, focused on biblical scholarship. 

They turned out to be basically the same skillset: You consider the themes and structure of the text, its historical context, what else that author has written, and opinions from other scholars. Yet my literature classes were full of women, while the biblical studies class was mostly men.  

Women have the same capacity as men for deep study, informed and reasoned discussion, and presentation of learning. These talents, in both sexes, are a gift to the individual and also to the body of Christ. 

In churches like ours that follow the biblical teaching that women are not “to teach or to exercise authority over a man” (1 Timothy 2:12), though, it can feel like there’s no outlet for a woman to share what she has learned. 

Encouragement for women

Scripture makes at least one thing clear on the subject of women in the ministry of the church: Women’s voices are valuable and needed for the building up of the whole church. 

Women are commanded to teach

Paul, in a letter to another young pastor, instructs that “Older women … are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled” (Titus 2:3-5).

Women are instructed to pass on what they learn to younger women. Paul highlights the snowball effect of investing in the spiritual growth of other women: A woman benefits herself; she loves and builds up her household–and she is even granted the honor of upholding the integrity of God’s own reputation. 

Women’s voices are not only for women

Men can also benefit from the insights and wisdom of women. We’re told that “when Priscilla and Aquila heard [Apollos preaching], they took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately” (Acts 18:26). Priscilla, wife to Aquila, is included in both the hearing and the explaining. 

Priscilla knew more than the man in the pulpit. She used her godly wisdom to instruct one who was already “competent in the Scriptures” (Acts 18:24), so that the gospel truth would be declared. Her contribution mattered in the kingdom of God; we find out later that Apollos’ teaching gained a large following (I Corinthians 3:4-5). Priscilla’s example demonstrates that there are appropriate avenues for a woman to instruct and even correct a man.

A need in the church

Our denomination, the PCA, has recognized that many of its churches are not encouraging women to serve to their full ability. Churches have tended to be “focused on what women cannot do rather than [on] fostering a biblically informed culture of what women are called to do” (WSMC report, Chapter 5).

The PCA commissioned the Women Serving in the Ministry of the Church (WSMC) study committee in 2016 “to pursue and equip the women of the church for every biblical role of service open to them” (WSMC report, Chapter 1). The committee submitted its report in 2017, including several recommendations to all PCA churches, detailed in Chapter 5 (pp. 58-63). 

The whole report is worth a read, to understand the value, biblical precedent, and bounds of women’s activities in the church. The thrust of the report is toward recognizing all the possible contributions women can make to the church. One opportunity that our church is pleased to offer is the WPCA blog. 

Write for the blog! 

I encourage any member to share on the blog, but this call is particularly to women. The church–our church–needs your wisdom, biblical insight, and experience. I hope the previous encouragements have eased any fears of overstepping biblical roles, but I realize there are other reasons people may hold back. 

I don’t have anything worth saying. Did the sermon strike you just so this week? Did something in your personal reading make you think? A blog doesn’t need to be a comprehensive analysis of a topic; in fact, smaller observations often make for more readable articles. I’ve found that I learn more by sitting down to write on a topic than if I simply study it for my own knowledge. 

I’m not trained in biblical scholarship. You have the Holy Spirit in you, teaching you through Scripture. There are plenty of Bible study tools out there (Knowable Word’s OIA method has been taught at our church), as well as commentaries for free online, for purchase, or for borrowing from our pastors. Study and write with prayer, and trust God to defend his truth. (Also, an editor will read your work and catch any blatant heresy.)

I’m not a writer. Writing is just thinking on paper. If you have an idea, jot down some notes and see where it goes. Ryan, as editor of the blog, or another writer can help with the writing. You could even co-write a piece with someone else to take the pressure off of you. 

Blogs are too high-tech for me. Write it by hand! I volunteer to type it up for you. Writers for the blog are not responsible for any of the techy stuff like formatting and posting articles. 

The WPCA blog exists for members of the church to share with one another what God is revealing to us. Anybody can write for the blog: men and women, pastors or lay people, the highly educated or the self-taught. We’d love to hear what God has taught you!

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